Taekwoon had barely made it through the door when his mother tackled him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Ravi scowled, skirting around them and folding his arms across his chest. He watched with dark, narrowed eyes as the tiny woman clung to her son. He felt his chest tighten and his hands curled into fists. 

"I was so worried about you, baby!" she fussed, stepping back and taking in the state of Taekwoon's face and clothes. "What happened to you?" He stared at her, arms remaining at his sides as she shook him and tugged his torn jacket off his shoulders, balling it up in her small hands "And this?" She cried "Where's your father?" She looked over his shoulder at the empty doorstep as if just noticing her husband's absence. "Taekwoon?" Her eyes were becoming alarmingly wide now and Ravi was half worried they were going to pop from her skull. 

The boy blinked slowly and shook his head, mumbling something under his breath.

His mother frowned "What?"

"I don't know."

He pushed past her and, before she had time to protest, disappeared up the stairs. Ravi listened as the sounds of his footsteps faded and flinched at the slamming of the bedroom door. He watched as the woman's lips moved, forming to yell her son's name and immediately wished to clamp a hand over to shut her up.  He wanted to reveal himself to her and scream; tell her what pieces of her and her husband were. For the first time in years- maybe even decades- he was angry. The type of anger that built up and settled slowly and heavily in your chest, just stewing and burning and making you grit your teeth while clenching your fists. The type of anger you tried to suppress for fear of what the release of such a monster might cause. 

So, he followed the boy. He left the woman standing frantic in the hall and chased after her son, coming to his closed bedroom door and knocking on it softly. He felt compelled to say something profound and comforting; words that might have the power to make everything better- even if it was just a temporary balm for Taekwoon's wounds. But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He sighed heavily and leaned his shoulder on the wall next to the door, hand still on the upper door frame to steady himself. "Hey, kid?"

There was no answer, but he was sure he could hear something muffled on the other side of the door. "Taekwoon?" He knocked again and waited, tapping his foot impatiently. He had never been a very patient person really. He was learning this, the longer he spent with the boy. "Open the door."

Taekwoon squeezed his eyes closed and to his side as he lay curled up under his blanket. It hurt. Everywhere ached and it seemed there was nothing he could do to stop the pain. He was slowly beginning to hate his mother. Did she not see the cuts and bruises on his face? He hadn't seen his reflection but he knew he looked like hell. Why wasn't she fussing over him like a normal mother? Was it because his father wasn't here? Did she love him more? A large part of him didn't even care where his father was. Whatever that thin